The Last Horcrux
by s.m.power
Summary: "Harry, now that you're an official adult I feel I must tell you the truth." A confused seventeen year old finally finds out what fate really holds for him. How will he learn to handle the truth when the only person he can talk to hates him? Post HBP. Dumbledore is alive. Slight OoCHarry. Rated M for slight drug abuse and, later on, sexual content. Slash. HPSS plus slight DMHG.
1. Chapter 1

As Harry leapt, hitting a knee on the fence as he did so, he could hear the angry threats and protests of his aggressor's. Over the fence, and knowing he was finally safe, he wiped the sweat out of his now stinging eyes. He closed them suddenly, though, at the agonizing pain radiating from one of his ribs, directly under his heart. He hadn't realized Dudley had truly hurt him and there was a sudden rush of anger as he realized his twat of a cousin had been successful in his "Harry hunting".

Lying down on the grass he sighed, the feeling of its wetness was a welcomed surprised on his sweaty body and, briefly, he was able to forget everything. His peaceful state was quite interrupted when water started squirting at him from a multitude of sprinklers placed in the ground of the yard. He jumped up to avoid becoming too wet and grabbed at his rib as another spike of pain erupted inside of him.

Harry mentally cursed himself for jumping up so fast when he'd known about the injury prior to his mistake. He inwardly consoled himself, thinking that maybe it wasn't so bad, because he wasn't that hurt.

_Things could be worse. This situation is pleasant in comparison to many._

_I'll be at Hogwarts by this time tomorrow and I'll never have to come back again._

He sighed, his eyes glazing over as he thought of how much happiness his life might be capable of bringing him from tomorrow on. Realizing it was nearly dinner time he decided to return to the Dursleys' house, thinking that maybe they wouldn't be that hungry…

_Maybe I'll get some food tonight and fill out so completely that by tomorrow no one will question my health._

It was a sarcastic thought but also a real wish that Harry had inside his head; he smiled slightly as he walked through the stranger's back yard and walked out their entrance gate. He winced at nearly every step, deciding that as soon as he was allowed to use magic tomorrow he'd mend his possibly broken, or at least fractured, rib.

_At least the bloke didn't hit me anywhere people would see._

Harry knew that the only thing that could ruin tomorrow would be if someone thought he'd been abused during the summer and took pity on him. The only thing worse than the constant praise and attention he got for being 'the boy who lived' was the feeling of mass pity, which was another thing Harry become accustomed to feeling from strangers.

As he neared the house he could see his cousin, Dudley, sitting out front on the steps, leering at him in a way that made harry shiver. It seemed that his friends had dispersed to their own homes, _possibly to antagonize some other small person, _and he was left with just Dudley to deal with.

'Harry! You're going to get it, freak, for embarrassing me in from of my friends!" As the pudgy boy spoke Harry simply stared back, indefinitely at a loss of words. It seemed illogical, truly, really, that Dudley was angry at him. He wasn't surprised that his cousin wanted to beat on him some more because, in all honesty, the boy was never satisfied with the amount of beatings Harry allowed to be done to him. But it seemed incredulous and, quite frankly stupid that the bigger boy would blame Harry for his own failures.

"Dudley, I did not embarrass you. You must realize that if you'd really wanted to hurt me, you'd have caught me. Maybe you're simply growing a soft spot for me, after all these years?" It was obvious that the last statement was more of a hopeful question, but as Harry knew that his suggestion was plaintively untrue, he closed his eyes and braced himself for his cousin's wrath.

He was surprised, though, when instead of punching him in his regular target zones, such as the chest or lower abdomen, his cousin crushed his meaty fist into Harry's very breakable face. He could feel the weight of the fist break his noise as well as hearting the snap itself. He opened his eyes, staring in shock at Dudley who, to his confusion was now vibrating angrily. He opened his mouth in protest, tasting the blood streaming from his noise; before he could string together a combination of words that made sense Dudley had brought his foot up to kick Harry in his most sensitive spot, located between his legs.

Falling to the ground and screaming, Harry could feel his magic vibrating in a defensive reaction to the pain he felt. Trying to regain his composure before his magic took control of his actions; he simply lay there, sputtering in a still shocked mass on the grass.

"Make all the protest you want, freak, but seeing as this is our last day together, I'm not scared of what you're stupid wizard-friends might do to me. You think I've been avoiding your face because I like you, freak? You and the rest of your freak friends disgust me." As Dudley finished his 'grand speech', all Harry could think was that hopefully those were the last words he'd hear out of his cousin's mouth for the rest of his life.

Though he feared speaking loud enough for his enraged cousin to hear, he replied under his breath, "even if that's the reason you never hit my face, I can't believe you kicked me in the balls…" And, though he didn't think that Dudley had heard him, his cousin turned again toward him, and kicked him, possibly with as much power as he possessed, in the lower part of his stomach. Harry cried out once more and curled into the tightest ball he could; he felt Dudley spit on him before the boy turned and walked inside the house. He lay like that, defensively curled into a ball, for hours, reflecting on his experience with the Dursley's each summer.

Deciding to forgive Dudley's outburst and pretend as if nothing had happened, because he was leaving in the morning, Harry sat up, this time slowly, in remembrance of his earlier mistake. A terrible pain still shot through him, though, this time for the pit of his stomach, and he hunched over, the sudden wave of nausea making him empty the non-existent contents of his stomach. After the days he'd gone without eating, most of those contents consisted of bile, and after nothing would come out he sat, painfully dry-heaving, for what felt like a lifetime.

Once his body had calmed down he stood up, faintly noticing the pain all over his body and the crusty feeling of dried blood on his face. Walking inside the house, he smelled the distant remnants of the roast his aunt had cooked for dinner, which by now he knew was gone. He sighed, walking once around the bottom half of the house, trying to burn it into his memory. Even if he hadn't enjoyed his time spent with the Dursley's, it was a large chunk of his life and he didn't want to forget one thing about it.

After Sirius had died Harry had suppressed a lot of memories he'd had of them together because it was too painful to remember. Now, just a little over a year later, he couldn't remember all of the memories of his beloved godfather and feared he'd be unable to ever remember everything. So he'd decided not to ever forget _anything _he thought of as an impact on himself and his life.

He halted to a stop in front of his old bedroom, located under the stairs; though it may have seemed cruel to many, he'd almost enjoyed his time spent in the cupboard, being able to hide away from his family and any other reality he did not wish to face.

Staring at the cupboard, he made a decision that he'd spend his last night back in the room where he'd spent the majority of his sleeps. He hurriedly shuffled up the stairs and into his bedroom, throwing his small amount of possessions in his trunk messily.

"BOY!" Harry's head turned swiftly to stare at the empty doorway and, realizing the scream had come from a sleepy Vernon that was still in bed, he grabbed the remainder of his things and shoved them in, locked the trunk and hurried back down the stairs with his trunk in one hand and Hedwig and her cage in the other.

Settling his possessions outside the cupboard, he eagerly ducked inside and lay down. As Harry drifted into sleep he wondered to himself whether or not Snape would teach him occlumency every again. In all truth the only reason he still wanted to learn was to be able to access all the memories he had of his godfather, but maybe if he was able to convince Dumbledore… Harry snorted, realizing how ridiculous the idea was after what had happened last time.

_Maybe I'll just tell Snape that I'd like to learn occlumency once more- after invading his mind the last time- to retrieve memories of my godfather whom he'd hated. Oh, and if that's not enough of a reason for him, I'll mention he should do me a favour because him and my dad were such good friends._

And with that final thought lighting his soul, consciousness dispersed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of the characters in it.**

**XXX**

When he awoke in the morning he made a swift decision, hastily grabbing his already packed trunk he stabbed his wand into his pocket, slipped on his one pair of shoes and nearly bolted out the door. He walked back in, though, in realization he had forgotten Hedwig. He unlocked her cage and she hooted in return, he smiled lightly, giving the front entrance a once over before stepping outside for the second time.

"Come on now, girl. Fly to Hogwarts and I'll meet you there." At the command Hedwig easily obliged, flying out of site within a minute of Harry's words. He shut the door once more and headed away from the house and away from Private Drive. Though Dumbledore was sure to be mad that Harry had put himself in danger by travelling alone to the train station, at this exact moment the thought only passed through his mind without him lingering on it for more than a moment. He was to happy that he was never going to have to return and that he'd avoided giving the Dursley's any more chances to make Harry hate them.

With that thought caressing his mind he easily continued his trek toward the train station, never having been so eager to return to school. He knew it would be different this year, he knew he'd be expected to take on more training outside of his classes. With his inability to block Voldemort from his mind, he'd seen many visions over his summer 'holiday'. The Dark Lord was becoming more and more urgently and pressingly angry; Harry felt the emotion and knew that it would not be long now before everything happened.

_Even if I've no idea what 'everything' happening truly is, I know as much as to prepare myself._

xxx

As he neared platform nine and three quarters, he absently realized he was still in his pyjamas. He absently pulled his school robes out of his drunk and slid them on, being careful not to put his head fully down. He had his guard up now, realizing that if he were to be attacked today it would be now, while he was alone and many wizards were passing by. Lots of parents were Deatheaters and many saw their children off.

That thought, as well as any others that he'd had were pushed out of his mind as a dark figure shoved him against the beam that had 'platform nine' written on it.

"_Potter…"_

As Harry looked up he saw that the venomous hiss had come from no other than his beloved potions professor. He snickered inwardly at the thought of Snape being 'beloved', and to Harry discomfort, Snape pressed his elbow slightly deeper into his ribs and continued speaking:

"Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be alone at this time?" Though the potions professor was doing his best to tower menacingly over Harry, he could not do much to really scare the boy. As it was now, the position they were in was the only thing Harry was paying any attention, and he let out a loud his in response as his ribs screamed at him.

"You're hurting me, a lot, professor." He had meant to sound at least somewhat annoyed but the pain was getting the better of him and he was sure it was obvious in his voice because a moment later the pain subsided slightly as Snape removed his weight from Harry.

"You should not be so weak, Potter. You'll have to deal with a lot more pain than that when you're fighting the Dark Lord." Harry only sighed in response, knowing full well he couldn't defend himself without telling Snape about Dudley. He decided it wasn't worth it to explain to the potions master why he hadn't defended himself against his cousin; Snape would probably kill him knowing he'd left the safety of the wards Dumbledore had put around the house without having his wand.

"Why are you here, professor?" Harry asked the question, aware it was obvious he was trying to change the subject but hoping Snape wouldn't notice, or at least wouldn't care.

The black eyes of his professor looked him over once before meeting his eyes and replying, "Like I said, Potter, it isn't safe here. Report to the Headmaster's office after dinner… Oh, and you might want to heal your nose, I'm sure your fan club will be horrified to see you like that." The snide comment seemed to role of his professor's tongue with ease, and without a second breath he turned sharply and walked away from Harry.

Though he could confidently say Snape hadn't been trying to help him he was relieved at the mockery because he had forgotten about the injury. Taking out his wand, he flicked it and whispered _"Episkey"_; his nose felt suddenly hot and then cold again as the bones rearranged themselves. He gripped more tightly onto his trunk and sighed once more, inwardly admitting that a meeting with Dumbledore on the first day back couldn't be a good thing he rushed forward to meet the day.

xxx

"Harry!" Swerving to see who had called him, Harry spotted his friends in the compartment across the way and instantly headed towards them. Ducking in and placing himself beside Luna, he looked up and was met with the worried stares of his friends.

"Uh, hi there. How was everyone's summer?" His voice, he noted, had a slight edge to it, to which he wasn't sure what the cause was.

"Mine was lovely, though I missed you dearly, Harry." Harry nodded and smiled knowingly at Hermione as she added under her breath "and I already miss _them._" He had known of Hermione's plan to obliviate her parents and, with her words as confirmation enough, he leaned forward and held her shortly in an awkward embrace.

"Yeah, uh, mine was good. Mum and dad visited Percy in Romania, so Fred, George and I spent the summer pranking each other." While Ron's voice was filled with a childlike enthusiasm, at his words Ginny groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Harry, you look so thin, did they starve you all summer?" In response to Hermione's worried inquiry, Harry shook his head and laughed, changing the subject stealthily to quidditch he listened as Ron rambled on about the new season.

He leaned his head comfortably against the wall as his friends continued jabbering on, a small smile gracing his lips as he noted that Neville's hand covered Luna's, fingers entwined happily.

Feeling eyes on him, he looked up and into the eyes of Ginny which, if he was not mistaken, were filled with a kind of love-like emotion. He shuddered, the look making his insides move uncomfortably he ripped his gaze away from hers, deciding the issue of her blatant feelings for him would have to wait until later to be properly addressed. For now his biggest concern was being ready in case there was an attack on the train.

xxx

"Well Harry is already!" The upset retort came from Hermione, no doubt in response to something Ron had said.

"Sorry, what was that?" He grinned crookedly at her as she turned to him, a look of murder in her eyes.

"I was simply suggesting we change into our robes now, seeing as we'll be arriving soon!" Hermione was speaking in an exasperated tone; her breath shallow as she glared at Ron.

"What a relief…" Harry's thoughts were dragged back to his and Snape's short conversation and the subtle warning, _"it's not safe…" _Those words alone had made him more uneasy than he cared to admit; his assumption had been that there would be a deatheater attack on the train. Though, with Snape's mysterious words it could not be ruled out that that wasn't what the professor had thought would happen. Maybe he had simply been misinformed. Possibly that he'd fallen out of favour with the Dark Lord and he was no longer trusted?

_Or maybe his sadistic nature got the better of him and he wanted to watch me sweat._

The thought didn't make Harry as upset as it should have, rather the implications that the wording of his thoughts had made him blush slightly and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Right, erm, Hermione is right. We should all get changed otherwise we'll be the last to the feast and there will be none left!" Though his logic was completely flawed by the fact that the food never ran out, his friends all dispersed to change into their robes, leaving Harry by himself. He hummed indignantly, the realization he wore pyjama's underneath his robes making his eyebrows crease. He felt the train come to a stop, though, and the issue left his mind as he stood up and readied himself for departure of the train.

_I'm hungry._ The realization came in the form of Harry's stomach growling; he grabbed his trunk and headed toward the carriages.

xxx

His plate was emptied long before the feast was over and he stood, promising his friends he'd see them after his meeting with Dumbledore. He headed up toward Dumbledore's office, knowing he'd have to wait until the feast was over for the Headmaster to arrive.

Having arrived at the top of the stairs, he took a seat just outside Dumbledore's office. As he sat, waiting, he couldn't help but wonder what it was his Headmaster had wanted to speak to him about. It was no doubt that whatever it was it had to do with Voldemort; Harry thought that it was possibly to do with the horcrux's in which he'd learned about last year. He knew there were more and it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore found out where the next one was and recruited Harry to join him to retrieve and destroy it.

"Potter…" Though the usual malice was missing from his voice, as Harry looked up he saw the usual sneer on Snape's face as the man stared down at him; the black pools that were his eyes unreadable.

"Professor," he stood quickly to more evenly meet Snape's gaze. It was only once he was standing that he realized how close they were; he was practically pressed up against the wall as Snape stood cooly, unaware of their compromising position. As Snape towered over him, breathing hot against his skin, Harry flushed, his breath catching in his throat.

"I-I… Didn't know you'd be here, sir." His words seemed to wake Snape out of his trance, quickly stepping back and straightening his robes, he looked away.

"Well, as it turns out, Potter, the Headmaster needs me for everything he does." The response was surprising to Harry; he'd never before heard Snape speak ill of Dumbledore. It made him nervous to think what Dumbledore wanted to speak to him about that made Snape act out of character; something he never did.

"Harry, Severus, my dear boy's," Dumbledore's voice interrupted Harry's thoughts as he moved out of the doorway and gestured them into his office, "Won't you please join me?"

As he followed Snape and Dumbledore into the room, he heard a quiet yet concise "_didn't bother to knock, Potter?" _come out of Snape in a hiss. He took the available seat beside his professor and across from Dumbledore; looking up he caught the weary eye of the old man.

"Sir, what is this about?" The question came out of his lips like word vomit, sounding as uneasy and nervous as he was sure he looked at that moment.

"Harry, now that you're an official adult I feel I must tell you the truth." As Harry listened carefully at the words that came out of his Headmaster's mouth he noted anxiously that the old man had averted his gaze and was now studying a piece of parchment that sat on his desk with quite a bit of interest.

"Sir, is this… Is this about the horcrux? Have you found another one?" He sounded as though he was pleading, but for what he was unsure.

"Yes, my dear boy, it has everything to do with that. But, I'm afraid, it's much more personal than I'd ever wish it," his Headmaster paused once more before hastily continuing, "You see, Harry, the night Voldemort killed your parents, a part of his soul was cast into you, making you his final, though accidental, horcrux." Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, feeling more confused than he ever had before.

"So… I'm a horcrux? But, you said… You said we had to destroy _all _the horcrux's in order to kill Voldemort once and for all?" Dumbledore's nod confirmed the thought and Harry blanched. "So, I'm going to have to die in order for Voldemort to die? What about the prophecy? I thought I had to be the one to kill him?" He sounded hopeful, he knew, and bordering on pathetic, but he looked up pleadingly into his Headmaster's eyes.

"Well, Harry, the prophecy can be interpreted in many ways. What I think it means, in reality, though, is that you will be a direct cause to Voldemort's death, even if he does not die at the end of your wand. You'll help to destroy the horcrux's up until the moment where you give yourself over to him-"

"Sorry, sir, what? Why am I going to 'give myself over to him'?" He knew his voice had anger in it, but he couldn't help the feeling as confusion overwhelmed him.

"Harry, it is only by his hand that the horcrux inside of you will be destroyed. I'm sorry, dear boy, but this is what the fates have in store for you." Harry sighed as he saw a glint of sadness in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Well if it's what has to be done to destroy the bloody bastard then so be it, as long as he dies I can accept it. How long do I have, sir?" He sounded so strong, for a moment he felt jealousy at his own voice because of the pain and fear he was feeling on the inside.

"That, my boy, is entirely dependent on Voldemort. We will try, though, to get all the other horcrux's before your times up." Harry nodded in response and suddenly, remembering Snape was also present, he shifted his eyes to the man. Not surprisingly, Snape was looking at Dumbledore, icily and emotionlessly as if waiting for a command.

"So, have you known, all this time, sir?" Harry asked this as he turned back toward Dumbledore, who shook his head lightly.

"No, Harry. I suspected something of the sorts when I learned you were a parseltongue, but my fears were confirmed when I realized your mind was linked with his. Speaking of that, Harry, now that you know about this, it is more important than ever that you know how to shield your mind. You and Severus will have to resume your occlumeny lessons, I'm afraid. Hopefully it will turn out more successfully than it did the last time." Harry nodded, absently acknowledging the best news he'd heard from Dumbledore all day.

"Who else knows?" It was a demand, Harry realized as soon as it left his lips, but he deserved to know, that much he understood.

"No on that isn't in this room right now. And, as you probably have already guessed, my boy, no one else can ever know." Harry slumped down in his seat at the words, though he supposed it was obvious, it still hurt to have it confirmed he no longer had anyone. The only two people that he would be able to speak freely to were his professors; one which was a manipulative puppet master, and the other whom hated Harry more than he hated anyone else. "Don't worry, though, my boy, once he's defeated I'll personally make sure to it that everyone knows how much of a hero you were and how much you truly sacrificed." At his reassuring tone, Harry couldn't help but openly scoff.

"I can assure you, sir, that I've had enough praise for a lifetime. If I have to die for this cause, let me die in peace." Dumbledore looked outwardly opposed at the reply, but at this point Harry couldn't care less. "Anything else, sir? It's been a long day and I need sleep to process all these stupid feelings."

"Well we need to decide which days will be best for occlumency!" It was nearly a sputter, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Though he cared about Dumbledore he couldn't help feeling slightly betrayed by the old man, and in turn he was quite happy he was capable of upsetting him.

Harry turned, quite suddenly, toward his professor who had sat silently for this entire time, "Professor? Whenever works for you works for me."

Snape looked at him for the first time since they'd walked into the office; his black eyes held the smallest amount of compassion, more than Harry though was possible. "Weekends work best for me, Potter, if you truly are completely open?"

Harry chuckled lightly and nodded, "Well I've nothing better to do, now do I? Don't think I'll be having fun with my friends in Hogsmeade again in this lifetime."

"No need for the dramatics, Potter. Saturday and Sunday then, in my office right after dinner." Harry nodded and stood, slowly making his way towards the door.

"Harry, I told you the truth in hopes that you'd be able to enjoy the remainder of your life." Dumbledore stood as he spoke, making Harry sneer at him.

"It's too late for that, sir." And with that last comment, Harry turned and walked calmly out of the office, feeling the need to run as far as his leg would carry him.

**XXX**

**Hope you enjoyed this; I'll be sure to get the next chapter in the next couple of days!**

**P.S. Thanks for the reviews, hope to read more! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of the character's it contains**

**XXX**

As Harry trudged his way towards the Gryffindor tower he could feel the absent seer of anger bubbling inside him. He knew where the anger was coming from, that much was obvious to him. The whole situation was angering. The fact that after all this time the only way to defeat Voldemort was for he himself to die; that he would be unable to see his parents' death avenged, after all this time; that he wasn't allowed to share the new and horrible truth with his friends. The most angering out of everything, though, had to be his Headmaster's stupidity in thinking he'd given Harry a chance to enjoy himself. It seemed incredulous, really, that the old man would suggest a thing as ridiculous as him enjoying himself in the short time before he marched off to meet his death at the hands of the man that had murdered his parents, not to mention been the cause of his Godfather's death!

As he arrived at the fat lady, he mumbled a nearly inconceivable, "fortifer", and hurried inside as soon as the door began to open.

At having entered the room, at least a dozen eyes turned to stare at him; but the moment past and everyone turned their attention back to what they'd been previously engaged in. Well, not everyone, of course; his friends continued staring and waiting for him to approach them. Instead, though, Harry decided to walk past them casually, hoping with every fibre that they'd just let him go for now.

"Harry." The voice of his friend possessed an air of entitlement that made him grind his teeth together angrily. He turned, slowly, to meet Hermione's gaze, a pleading look in his eyes, but as she raised her eyebrow's he realized he had already lost the unspoken argument. Moving around the standing figure that was Ron, he slumped beside her in her chair and rested his cheek on her shoulder.

"Too many people…" He mumbled, darting his eyes around the all-too familiar common room.

"We'll wait." As Hermione said it, he felt himself slump even further down into the chair; a feeling of defeat washed over him as his friend wrapped her arm around him. He sighed, thinking to himself that this was the closest he would ever be to feeling comforted by his friends again because of the large truth that would soon separate him. He was not, contrary to Snape's belief, foolish enough to think he would be able to maintain the level of closeness he currently felt with his friends now that this new development had arisen.

Yawning, he realized how truly tired he was. He knew he had not fully wrapped his brain around what his Headmaster had told him and because of that there was a chance he might get a good night's sleep. This night, though, would likely be the last he slept through, because once he could no longer deny the truth he doubted very much he'd have the audacity to waist his 'precious' time on something so futile as sleep.

"Hermione, I'm tired. Come up to our rooms." Standing, he motioned his two friends to join him and waved a goodnight to Neville and Ginny. Though he would not be telling Ron and Hermione anything of true importance he couldn't risk giving any information about horcrux's out to anyone who didn't already know.

He could feel his feet drag as he made his way up the stairs and into his and Ron's room, but he couldn't bother to care. He took a seat at the top of his bed, covering his mouth as another yawn escaped and waiting as Hermione and Ron sat down across from him, on Ron's bed.

"So Harry, mate, what was it Dumbledore wanted?" His friends words and Hermione's added nod made him cringe; the thought that he was about to start a lie that would continue until his death was upsetting enough to make him not want to look into his friends' faces while he did it. So he cast his eyes down, silently cursing circumstance as he tried to word his sentence as to not be a complete lie.

"Er, well it was just what we'd thought! It was about horcrux's." He breathed, realizing the truth in his words that his friends would not get. Hearing a squeak from Hermione, he hastened to the end of his explanation, "Actually, though, no real news. Just that I should be prepared to aid him in finding and destroying them this year.' He looked up, and seeing the disappointment at the obviousness of his words, he added a quick, "Oh, and I have to try and learn occlumency again this year with Snape." Ron's eyes darted up at that, containing a mixture of excitement and horror in them.

"Oi, Harry, why is it you always get stuck with that greasy git?" Though he heard Hermione protest something about how 'he was on their side' and that 'Dumbledore trusts him', Harry couldn't help but agree.

_Why is it I'm always stuck with him… Why is he the only one who is allowed to know the truth?_

"I'm honestly beginning to think the fates are against me, Ron." The gravity in his words, though known only to him, made him shudder. He turned without saying good night; lying down and throwing his blankets over his still-clothed body, he drifted off.

XXX

_He was looking into the cold, dead eyes of a woman with the only feeling being glee._

"_Master!" A pathetic sounding voice came from the corner of the meek and humid room. Turning, he saw Peter Pettigrew, slightly hunched, in the corner._

"_Wormtail, fetch another mudblood." The alien voice came from his own mouth and he suddenly clued in that he was in Voldemorts head. As he saw Wormtail bringing in a nearly unconscious girl, he struggled to wake up._

"_Crucio!" As the spell sounded and the girl started writhing, a pain shot through Harry as well. Trying to resist the shackles of Voldemorts mind, though, he continued struggling._

"_Bring me Severus."_

As he jolted awake suddenly, it took all he had to keep himself composed long enough to make it to the bathroom. He barely made it before he started vomiting; he emptied himself for what felt like hours before wrapping himself around the base of the toilet. He was suddenly over joyous for the occlumency he was being over; he'd have to properly thank Snape in the morning.

A shiver ran through him as he lay on the cold tile of the bathroom, replaying his nightmare in his mind. He hated the look of death in that poor women's eyes and it made him sick to think about all the horror's Voldemort had caused. He thought of Cedrick, Sirius and his parents; all of whom had lost their lives for the same cause that he would. They were only a few among many more that had died at the end of Voldemort's wand and as Harry realized this he also realized his sacrifice was not larger than many other peoples.

Still, though, he couldn't help the feeling of anger that came when he thought of it. He felt such a loss at the thought that he'd die before he had the chance to experience so many things. He knew even if it was still uncertain, even if the fates hadn't already given him an answer that it would have been likely he'd have died in the battle anyway.

_It's the knowing that is killing me._

Realizing that the nights full of sleep were behind him, Harry stood and made his way towards the shower. He turned it on and twisted the nob the furthest to the left that it went. He felt the heat of the water before he dipped his body under it. As he immersed himself, the water scalded him and he was painfully aware of the redness of his skin.

_This is what I need. I need to do one thing a day that reminds me I'm alive, even if it's something as small as burning my skin in the shower._

As his body adapted to the heat of the water and stopped hurting, he decided that it hadn't been enough of a reminder. He opened his eyes and scanned the bathroom, making sure he was alone before he gently started stroking himself.

He shifted himself so that the scalding water ran over his member, adding to the pleasure of his hand. His hand squeezed tighter around his now full erection and he sped up the pace of his pumping, now distracted with the images of anonymous faced men trouncing around in his mind.

He'd only found out last year that there was no real definite restrictions on sexual attraction in the wizarding world. Since that discovery he'd thought more freely, and more often, about men while masturbating than about women. Having never been attracted to a particular man, though, he left the face blank as he imagined them pounding into him.

As his thoughts gradually become more and more explicit, and he felt himself starting to cum, a burning pain shot through his heads. His body seized slightly as he continued coming and a strangled sound between a moan and a scream shot out of his throat. Falling to the floor of the shower, he gripped his head as the pain continued and did all he could not to scream.

Five minutes past before the pain dulled slightly enough for him to be able to stand and, finishing his shower, he headed toward the towel rack.

_Fuck. _

That was his only thought as he blankly stared at the empty towel rack which, he realized now, was probably refilled daily by the house elves. He sighed and began to shake, hoping that the motion would remove enough of the water that he could slip his clothes on.

With the pain in his head still severe enough to distract him, he walked back into his room and carelessly slipped on a t-shirt and jeans. Grabbing his school robes and absently looking back to be sure Ron was still in bed, Harry headed toward the Great hall. Though he realized it was not yet six o'clock, it was all he could do not to run the entire way. His head pounded so painfully and he felt as though whatever he was looking for was an escape.

Arriving at the large doors, he pushed them open and, at having the entire hall be empty, his shoulder slumped in disappointment. He didn't know what he'd wished had been there but he needed to find an out before he broke down in a pile of screaming pain.

Deciding that, for now, the best solution was to ignore the pain, he turned in means to return to his rooms to look over his class schedule.

"Mr. Potter." The snarl of Snape sounded from down the hall, and sure enough, as he turned his head the billowing robes of his potions professor came into view. "Mr. Potter, I suppose you have an explanation as to why you're up at this hour?"

"Y-yes, actually sir, I do." He breathed in, giving himself a second to steady his voice before he continued, "You see, sir, I was woken up from a terrible vision. I couldn't help it, I tried to resist it, but I couldn't." Harry looked up, and at seeing the weary expression of Snape, something clicked in his mind.

"Sir, are you just getting back?" At this, Snape's face twisted into a look of utter outrage. "Sorry, I just meant… He was asking for you, you see, right before I woke up."

Ignoring Harry's question altogether, his professor, with anger still prominent on his features, simply stared at him for a moment before speaking.

"That does not properly explain why you're wandering the castle at six in the bloody morning, clearly wet and without your proper school robes on, Potter." His name was added at the end with malice but he was suddenly distracted by another shooting pain in his head. His hand darted out to quickly ground himself as the world around him started swaying. He blinked his eyes, trying to steady his vision he looked back towards his potions professor, who it seemed at that moment could not be any angrier. Harry realized why a moment later as his eyes travelled down his arm to see that what he had gripped onto for balance was none other than the scornful man.

"When I woke I couldn't get back to sleep, so I took a shower, but there were no towels, so I dressed myself while I was still wet. I can't really explain the rest, sir, sorry. I'm a bit out of sorts, you see, because I've got a terrible headache." With that he ended his speech, realizing that anything else that was true would only further anger his professor.

When he looked up again he was surprised to see that the anger highlighting Snape's features had dimmed considerably and a lot of it had been replaced with what could only be described as worry.

"15 points from Gryffindor, Potter, for wandering the halls at an inappropriate hour, and another five, for not being properly dressed." Though the point in the words was to upset Harry, he couldn't find it in himself to react properly. He would likely not even be there when the cup was awarded to one of the houses, so the point loss was futile. He silently decided not to say his thoughts aloud, though, in fear he'd be doled a worse punishment. "Follow me." The command interrupted his train of thoughts and he shuffled to catch up with his already departing professor.

Before long they had arrived at their destination; the dark, damp potions classroom he was all too familiar with. As he entered the room behind Snape, the man quickly disappeared into one of the many locked storage closets. Harry had barely a chance to sit down, though, before the man was approaching once more, this time with a vial in his hand.

"Drink this." As he said the words, his professor all but thrust the vial into Harry's hand.

"But, sir, what is it?"

"It will help with your headache. How often do you have these visions, Mr. Potter?" As his professor continued speaking, he pulled the cork out of the vial and downed the sticky substance, cringing as the bitter taste hit his senses.

"Not sure. A lot. Usually not this bad, though." His voice, though calm, had an edge of exhaustion that he had not intended.

"Well then it seems we're more in need of you to learn occlumency than I'd thought. We should get started immediately, really, but as now may not be the best time, how does after dinner sound?" Harry wanted to protest, feeling the tiredness his pain had caused him even as it was dwindling to nothing. Instead, though, he nodded, realizing the sooner he learned the sooner he'd be able to avoid this pain. "You may go, then."

At his dismissal, Harry headed out the damp dungeon and back up to his room. It was only once he arrived and looked over his class schedule that he realized potions was first every single day.

_I just can't catch a break._

XXX

"You know you'll never be able to eat all of that, Harry!" Harry glared at his friend's decidedly pointless comment.

"I'm hungry." Even as he said it he knew it wasn't true and that Hermione would be proven right when most of the food went to waist. But he wanted to eat as much as he could so that he'd have the energy to face Snape again even after a day filled with the man.

Though, admittedly, the day had gone quite smoothly, the exhaustion Harry felt was enough that he thought if he relaxed, even for a moment, he'd pass out. The tiredness was likely coming from all the anxiety he was suppressing, but with no other options but to supress, he was left feeling desperate.

He wasn't sure how long he sat, staring blankly at his plate full of food, but when he looked up Ron was nearly done. He hastily looked up to where his professor sat and, when he realized the man was no longer there, he stood.

"Harry, you haven't even touched your food!" The worry in Hermione's voice almost over rid the tone of 'know-it-all', but not quite.

"Change of plans, I've got occlumeny. Right now. I'll see you guys afterward." With the excuse out of his mouth, Harry nearly dashed out of the Great Hall which, by now, was only about half full.

By the time he'd reached the potions classroom, the unease in his stomach had risen up to his throat. He knocked unevenly, nervous that he'd have to deal with an angry Snape for the second time in the day.

When the door was opened a feeling of relief washed over Harry as he looked into the calm black eyes.

"Professor, sorry if I'm late, I ate a little slower today." He knew his reason had been accepted when the potions professor simply turned and walked away, leaving the door open for Harry to follow.

"Alright, Potter, you know the drill. Clear your mind, and ready yourself for my attack." Snape turned to look once more into Harry's eyes and, not waiting for a response, whispered _'legilimens"._

He could instantly feel the pain of his professor invading his mind, and, closing his eyes, he tried desperately to push the man out.

_Sirius promising Harry a home. Sirius falling into the veil. Remus mourning. Voldemort torturing a muggleborn. Voldemort killing Cedrick. Embracing Hermione._

He could feel his professor leave his mind but as to whether or not he'd pushed him out, he was unsure. He was unsure of many things, for example why did it feel like his face was pressed up against stone? And why was Snape sideways?

He could feel himself going in and out of consciousness, unaware of anything going on around him until he felt the cool glass of a vial against his lips and two warm fingers stroking his throat as to help him swallow, which he did so successfully.

Minutes past and as he became aware of his surroundings, he sat up in a panic.

"Sir, everything blurry?" In response to his confused question, his professor handed him his glasses, which he was only just realizing weren't on his face. As he slipped them on everything came clearly into view, including the irritated yet concerned face of his professor.

"That will be all for today, Potter." The usual malevolence was missing from the man's voice as he stood up from his crouching position beside Harry. Harry slowly stood up; looking into the eyes of his professor he ignored the dismissal.

"The reason I couldn't do it was because of what Dumbledore has told me, sir. I have no one to talk to and it's a lot to take in. You are the only other person that knows the truth, professor. Maybe if you'd be willing to talk to me a little about it, I'd be more successful with the occlumency?" He knew the suggestion was a long shot but the desperation clawing its way through his soul wasn't giving him much choice.

"Just because I know of the predicament of your fate, Potter does _not _mean I care about it. Do not use that as an excuse for your lack of skill." Though the words were hurtful, Harry couldn't help but want to keep pleading, and it felt odd he so painfully wanted to 'chat' with this hateful man.

"It's not just because you know, though, sir. You must understand where I'm coming from, having been a spy for so long. I feel like my whole life has been controlled by an evil puppet master, and the whole time he's just been bringing me to the moment where I have to fail to do what my whole life has been based around. You must know what it feels like to be controlled, must be able to relate to feeling unfulfilled?" He knew he sounded pathetic, standing there, desperately trying to relate the two situations so that he could console in someone.

"There is no similarity in our situations, Potter, other than the sad fact the Voldemort is the ultimate cause of our unhappiness. But if that's the requirement to be able to relate to you I can think of a long list of people that feel the same way." The hatred written all over the man's face as he spoke Harry knew was directed at him and he sighed, trying once more with a soft-

"But, sir-"

"We may both have given up our lives to help defeat the Dark Lord, but the difference is I may have a chance to live once he's gone. Therefore, Mr. Potter, my desperation to find solace is not level enough to yours for me to be seeking comfort with a person I so much dislike. You're not so special, Potter; remember that you're one of very many people that will have to give up their lives to defeat the Dark Lord."

The words reflected painfully true in his ears and he nodded sadly, the flash of hurt lasting long enough on for his potion professor's face to contort into an emotion he did not recognize. His eyes fell to the ground and before anything else could be said he turned and fled, wanting to get away so badly that he didn't care whether or not he'd get a detention.

He had no idea where his legs were carrying him, only that he had to escape. He distantly acknowledged the cold air of outside as he continued running away. He had to get away, had to escape.

_Let me escape this reality._

**XXX**

**Hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter; will be updating again soon.**

**Please read and review **

**P.S. I know this chapter has a lot of Snape it in but not to fret, I will be expanding on other character's and relationships in the next couple of chapters!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of the character's in it.**

XXX

He didn't know where he was going. Couldn't know. Couldn't think about anything other than the all too true words that Snape had snarled at him not ten minutes previous. It was only once he reached the all-too familiar Quiddich pitch that he realized where his legs had taken him. He lay down on the dirt of the pitch and closed his eyes, taking what felt like the first breath since he'd gotten the news from Dumbledore the night before.

It was all he could do not to scream as all the things he'd been suppressing over the last day surfaced. He realized that he'd have to find another way of dealing with his reality; the fact that one day with the knowledge and a couple of harsh words from Snape had practically broken him made it obvious he couldn't accept certainty.

He knew it was devoutly selfish that he was so concerned with the thought of his own death that it plagued him intolerably. The self-loathing that came from these feelings was enough to make him want to take his own life and he cursed himself for feeling this way. Though he wished he could simply change his pessimistic view on the situation he knew he didn't have it in him to live the rest of his life in content without any help.

It was at that moment that Harry remembered the pensive; all he had to do was put the memory of Dumbledore telling him in the pensive and he would be able to continue life normally. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of not being burdened by his own death, and even though the truth was the truth whether or not he knew it, he felt himself relax.

Now all he had to do was supress the terrible exchange between him and his professor, the cruel truth's spoken and another failed attempt at occlumeny with Snape. He could go to Dumbledore tomorrow with his resolve and until then he could handle himself with the idea he wouldn't feel the way he did for much longer. But the words spoken by Snape still rang in his ears and he couldn't help but be hurt; even if he had already known the man hated him he never realized the feelings were so strong he couldn't slightly sympathize with Harry. It actually surprised him that Snape had said he did not care about his fate and he felt suddenly embarrassed for thinking that under all of the resentment there was even a strand of compassion.

_Of course he hates me enough to be happy I'll die, he's had to spend most of his life protecting the 'ungrateful brat' that spawned from his school bully. That's enough reason to hate anyone, and I'm not that special. _

He shook his head and let out a strangled laugh, pushing the thought away and standing, he made his way back.

_And to think that it's only Monday…_

XXX

"_Severusss…" The hissing sound that came out of his mouth made the hooded figure standing in front of him shudder. The head Harry knew to be his professors nodded in response to Voldemort's voice._

"_Master?"_

"_You haven't given me news about the boy. Is it not with me that your loyalty lies?" The question, though asked, sounded rhetorical._

"_My loyalty lies with you alone, master. The brat has only been back at school for one day, though…"_

_Voldemort, speaking over Snape's dragging voice, drawled a soft "Crucio!" And Harry watched in horror as his professor fell to the ground in a pile of twitching pain. _

_It was only then that he realized he was once again in his aggressor's mind, yet he was unable to rip his gaze from Snape. Whether or not he knew he was risking everything staying in that mind, he couldn't help but stare at Snape thrashing. _

_Finally Voldemort released Harry's professor and addressed the man._

"_You may go, Severus… But next time I call for you, you'd better have new information on the boy..." Apparently the threat was all his professor needed; he swiftly turned and left the dark lord to his business._

It was then that Harry ripped his mind from Voldemort's and startled awake.

He sat up, the pain in his head overwhelming but not as bad as the previous night. He swivelled his feet to the floor and, reaching into his trunk, pulled out the Maurader's map.

Opening the map, he noted that Snape had not yet arrived back. He felt the drawing urge to run down to the Dungeon's and help his professor; the connection he felt to the man that hated him could not be compared to anything he had ever felt. Yet something still held him back from running down to comfort his professor, and that was the fact that Snape completely hated him. Snape didn't even know that Harry had observed his weakness and he had the feeling that telling his withdrawn professor he'd seen him under the crucio would not make him happy.

A second later the name _'Severus Snape' _popped onto the map, travelling fast towards the dungeon. Making a quick decision, he grabbed his invisibility cloak and, casting a look at the sleeping figure of Ron, he ran out.

Before he knew it he was running down towards the dungeons in hopes to see his potions professor. He knew he wouldn't have the guts to reveal himself to the man, but he hoped that just seeing him would cure his worries for the time being.

He came to a halt when his professor came into view, striding confidently enough through the corridor that Harry questioned whether his vision might have only been a simple nightmare. He swiftly passed Snape, walking quickly to stand beside the door of the potions room he stared at the man with concern.

The man stopped suddenly, staring at the space that Harry was, he brought his fingers up, pinching the ridge between his now close eyes, and he sighed.

"Potter…" The man practically hissed his name, outrage apparent in his voice and Harry's eyes widened as he began to panic.

_How does he know I'm here? Maybe if I don't make a noise…_

"Detention, I think, every day this week.And fifty points from Gryffindor, for blatant disregard to curfew." The man seemed not to be as angry as he should have been, but Harry barely noticed as he tried to figure out how his professor could even see him.

The second he realized why his professor could see him he blushed madly, embarrassment creeping upon him as he raised his hand which held, gripped tightly, his invisibility cloak.

"Oh, uh… I-" But he was at a complete loss of words and he just continued staring at Snape.

"Potter, is that what I think it is? You know I can confiscate that." The threat seemed empty and he stared at his professor, thinking the man seemed a lot more laid back than regularly.

"Right." Harry put his hand behind his back, hiding the cloak he knew Snape had already seen he stepped closer to the man. "Sorry professor, I- I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

His words seemed to spark realization in Snape and a look of outrage appeared on his face. "I have been a spy since you were a baby, Potter, and I can assure you I haven't suddenly become in need of your concerns!"

"Right, sir. Of course I know that but I couldn't help my feelings. I- I never can." His confession surprised both himself and his professor, which was made apparent by the widened eyes and open mouth of the man.

"Too good for self-control, Potter?" The question was accompanied by a smirk on the pale lips of his professor, and he couldn't help but flush at the insult. "I think you should leave now. Detention will be at eight o'clock every day. Do not be late, Potter, and stop wandering the halls at inappropriate hours. Otherwise you may have to spend every day with me for the rest of the year" The words, though an obvious warning, sounded alluring.

"Gee, sir, it sounds as if you're just trying to find reasons to spend time with me." He chuckled lightly at his own joke, but as he raised his eyes to stare into the blackness of Snape's, he regretted it instantly.

A moment later he was pressed against the wall with the weight of his professor pressed against him, his hand hovering over Harry's throat.

"Trust me, Potter, I do not wish to spend any extended amount of time with you. I want it as much as you want your fate, but it seems your company has been thrust upon me. I just hope you'll stop doing things to waist my already small window of free time." Snape dropped his hand as he realized what he was doing. He breathed heavily, still staring into Harry's eyes, still pressed up against the young boy.

Finally, after minutes in that position, Snape stepped back from Harry and averted his gaze.

"Go." Those words were all Harry needed, and he turned and fled.

XXX

"Harry!"

"What¸ Hermione?" His voice sounded as strained as he felt and he looked up from his seat across from Ron.

"You've been walking around all day like a zombie. You're lucky Snape didn't give you detention; you were practically asleep in his class, you know?" Her voice also sounded strained as she sat down across from the boys.

"Well he couldn't really give me detention because, well, I sort of already have detention with him for the entire week." He gave her his cheekiest grin as he admitted the trouble he was already in with Snape.

"Harry! I suppose that means your occlumency didn't go well, either?" in response to the question Harry offered his friend an innocent shake of his head, and she sighed heavily. "We know you're under a lot of pressure this year, Harry, but you still need to focus on school."

"Oy, 'Mione. Harry's got bigger things to worry about then school. Let him worry about it after Voldemort's dead." Hermione huffed at that as she shot Ron a look she saved exclusively for him. But Harry couldn't help but agree because, really, why was he even doing school at all? There was no real point in going to the classes when the knowledge he gained from them would do him no good.

"So how is your love life going?" He asked the question without looking at either of his friends, leaving the response up to either of them.

"Mine's rather good, thanks. I reckon I might ask Lavender to the winter ball." The information his friend gave was clearly meant to make Hermione jealous, but Harry noted she held only her regular look of distain when the subject of Lavender came up.

"Oh, Ronald, I thought you'd learned your mistake." She looked disapprovingly at her friend, who shot her an annoyed look in return. "Anyway, Harry, we should probably be speaking about _your _love life. Ginny has had a lot to say to me as of late, and I'd say it's high time you broke it off with her." The suggestion given to him sent Ron into an inappropriate rage and he was soon on his feet, yelling about how it was nearly dinner time and he should really join Dean and Seamus, because 'they were playing wizard chess'.

"I will talk to Ginny, but honestly I'm not sure why she thinks we're together in the first place. I never asked her out." His friend shot him a look of disbelief and he sighed, "Maybe I should have been more vocal with my feelings, but all I can do now is tell her how I really feel, right? Anyway, enough about that, I do realize what you did. You completely avoided talking about how your 'relations' are going. So, how are they, 'Mione?"

"Please!" She all but scoffed in response to his question, as though it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "The most attention I've gotten from a man since Victor is Malfoy's constant insults. Whether or not I like it, I'm a wallflower."

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met, 'Mione, I mean that! Maybe if you dressed up a little more than you'd actually get noticed?" He felt bad saying anything negative about his friend, but he wanted to help her and the only flaw in her he could see was her boring clothes and, well, maybe her hair could look a little smoother.

"Fine, Harry, I'll buy some new clothes. But only if you'll come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend. I want a real man's opinion on how I look because obviously Ginny's hasn't been that useful!" She looked nearly excited at her suggestion, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't every day that Hermione Granger got excited about shopping.

"Okay, fine. As long as I'm back before occlumency it should be fine." He offered his friend a smile as they both stood, content about the plans and ready to make their way down to dinner.

Harry paused at the door, "Or you could just start dating Malfoy." He laughed as he felt Hermione punch his arm and he opened the door, letting her walk out before him he followed behind.

XXX

As he knocked on the cement door to the potions room he heard the sound echo through the dungeon. He barely heard Snape as he drawled "enter…" But he did hear it, and he entered the room which Snape was currently sitting in, papers spread across his desk he sat, marking them.

"Potter, here for your detention and actually on time for once? I'm impressed. I was under the impression that you were incapable of that, seeing as you were late for my class earlier. I also noticed you did not hand in the homework that I assigned yesterday." Snape, though clearly distracted by his work, still managed to give Harry a look of disgust.

"Well, professor, you'd better fail me, then." At his words Snape looked up once again from his papers, this time he looked annoyed.

"Ah, I see. I told Albus that this is how you'd react, acting out in such a way, but he was convinced you were much to mature for that. It seems he stands corrected, you're as stubborn as your father." The older man shook his head and continued marking, "Clean all the dirty cauldrons in that corner, Potter. All the supplies are waiting over there."

Harry was speechless at Snape's insult; he'd been expecting more of a fight about the paper, but he now realized his professor couldn't do much. And why would he want to, honestly? Harry was giving him no choice but to fail the boy who he'd wanted to fail from the start and proving him right about Harry's true nature all at once. He was probably making Snape happier than he'd ever been before. The thought was upsetting and he decided then and there that as soon as he got this memory out of his head he'd become the best student ever, especially in potions, until the day he died.

He walked over to where the cauldrons were and started scrubbing them, completely focused on the task at hand, his mind blanked completely. It was an hour and a half later, once he was finally finished, that he realized how at peace he had been. It had been really nice, and he thought about how funny it was that the most enjoyable moment of his day had been scrubbing cauldrons with Snape for company.

A thought occurred to him suddenly, and he stood, approaching the desk at which his professor was still marking papers.

"Er, professor? I'm done." At his words Snape looked up and towards the now clean cauldrons.

"You are dismissed."

'Um, sir?" Snape looked up once more, this time with irritation drawn on his expression.

"Out with it, Potter."

"Well, sir, it's just… I'm going to Hogsmeade this weekend!" His voice had become uneven as he finished his sentence, and he averted eye contact from Snape in discomfiture.

"That's nice, Potter. I'm sure you and your bloody Gryffindor friends will have much fun shopping. I'm a little confused as to why you think it's pertinent I have that information, though." The man's sarcastic tone was not lost on Harry, but he continued despite it.

"He said he wanted you to give him information on me, sir. I know Dumbledore said he wanted to wait, but I think I should have a say in it, too. The sooner the better, honestly, I know I'm barely a help to the old man anyway! And you being the one to give him that information will make him trust you completely." He didn't dare look up as he finished; he feared both Snape being angry at his suggestion and the man accepting it, either option had a huge downfall.

"Are you truly ready to die, Harry?" He was shocked by Snape's use of his first name and he looked up, catching the pained look of his professor.

"I just don't see a reason to wait. It's not as if I'm enjoying myself and I think, regarding the circumstances, I think it would be better to die now." Harry felt sad as he said what he'd been thinking aloud, but there was truly no reason to wait.

"It's not the time yet, Harry. When you are truly ready to die, you can come to me and I will tell the Dark Lord. But I sense your doubts, so no; you will not die on Saturday." Just the fact that his professor seemed to care slightly about his life made him feel that maybe he did have a reason to stick around, for now, anyway. He nodded, realizing he could make his way to Dumbledore's office and stop his depressed feelings for the time being.

"Right, well, I'll see you tomorrow sir." He ducked his head in goodbye and walked briskly out of the room, a newfound hope warming its way through his body as he thought that maybe Snape cared a little about Harry's life.

He practically pranced his way through the castle and it was only once he reached his Headmaster's office that he realized how absolutely ridiculous it was to react in this way to slight sympathy from Snape. He sighed as the smile melted off his face and he gave the door a confident knock.

Moments later Dumbledore was opening the door and giving Harry the usual "come in, my dear boy. Lemon drop?" routine.

"No, professor. I came here for a particular reason, actually sir. I want to take out my memory of the other night." The confusion on Dumbledore's face at his words made Harry angrier than he cared to admit, and he shook his head. "You know what I'm talking about! I don't want to be constantly plagued with the truth, sir; it makes me too depressed to function. Take it out of me!" He couldn't believe his own voice as he spoke, somewhere between begging and screaming.

"Harry, my boy, I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Yes you can! All you have to do is pull your stupid pensive out, sir; you know I already know that so why lie?" His voice was filled with a rage that was more often in the voice of his potions professor.

"Right, well maybe I spoke incorrectly. What I meant, Harry, is while I am capable of it, I must refuse. You see, I really do want you to enjoy yourself, but ignoring the truth is not the answer and I fear if I succumb to this demand you will hold it against me for your entire afterlife. I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm not willing to risk it." His mouth opened to protest but it was at that moment he realized there was no arguing with Dumbledore.

The old man always got his way; Harry would just have to find another way of forgetting the truth. He knew Snape had a pensive of his own but it was more than likely the man would not help him if Dumbledore wouldn't. And on top of that it would make Harry look inherently weaker than he truly was, or at least weaker than he liked to believe he was.

As he turned to leave, he huffed one last "You're wrong" before he continued out of the room.

_Why doesn't he want to help me?_

XXX

As he sat, waiting for Hermione to finish in the washroom, he realized how much of his week had been a blur. Maybe it was the fact that he'd had less than ten hours of sleep since he'd arrived at Hogwarts a week ago or maybe it was the fact that he'd spent the greater part of his time with Snape cleaning things.

Over the week his potions professor had loosened up slightly around him. He assumed the man was being driven by pity but he couldn't complain; Harry was even quite sure Snape had nearly apologized for his thoughtless words during their first occlumency lesson. But of course he hadn't apologized, but that might be attributed to the fact that ninety five percent of their time spent together was in silence as Snape marked and Harry cleaned.

"Harry!" His friend calling his name made him zone back into reality and he looked up from his butterbeer to see Hermione standing in front of him. He noticed, too, that Ginny was standing beside Hermione with her hand actually clasping the other girls.

"Harry, Ginny has insisted on joining us in our shopping!" The girls delight was clearly fake, and as much as he still wanted to help Hermione shop, there was no way he was dealing with Ginny at that moment.

He'd asked Hermione earlier in the week about any sorts of pharmaceutical that helped repress memories. She'd, of course, known about a drug that did this. She'd told him that the drug was called 'metopirone' and that it helped decrease bad memories; the only problem was that it was a muggle drug, and the only place Harry was allowed to go was Hogsmeade.

He knew there was the wizarding equal of a drugstore somewhere around and he'd decided he would go there today and hopefully find something to help him. He assumed that, in the wizarding world, pills were probably equivalent to potions, anyway, so not really all that harmful.

"Sorry, Hermione, Ginny, I'm going to have to reschedule the shopping for another time. Next weekend, perhaps? I've got an errand to run, so, er, I'll see you two later!" He knew he sounded a little panicked but he couldn't help it; the thought of having to confront Ginny was terrifying, the girl was like his little sister and the fact he'd strung her along for this probably made it much worse.

He walked out of the Three Broomsticks, looking both directions in confusion as he realized he wasn't sure where the shop was. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on where it had been when he'd viewed the layout of Hogsmeade on a map a couple of days previous. He walked slowly toward the shop, pausing every once and a while to try to visualize it again as to not get lost.

Finally he arrived at the shop and he suddenly realized why it wasn't in the main strip of shops. It looked a little run down, maybe even slightly spooky, but it had been a long time since Harry had been scared of something so futile, so, unblinking, he walked into the shop.

"Hello?" As he called for someone he remembered back to Olivanders; the situation had been very similar to this with the key difference being that he'd been a different boy back then. Harry walked over to the empty desk and impatiently rang the bell, looking around for any sign of someone working.

"Just one moment please!" The man's voice floated down from the top of a set of stairs in the back, and Harry strained his eyes in an attempt to see the man whose voice it was. As the man approached Harry he realized that, while he'd never seen this man before, he was impressed with what he saw. The man must have been nearly a foot taller than Harry with broad shoulders and a five o'clock shadow that was undeniably sexy.

"Uh, hi." He didn't recognize his own voice and he cleared his throat, trying again to speak so that the gorgeous man would not get a bad first impression. "I'm looking for a drug to get rid of some bad memories. Do you have anything equivalent to the muggle drug metopirone?" The man looked taken aback by Harry's directness and he couldn't help but feel smug as he stared at the man.

"Yes, I have something sort of like that. It is sort of between metopirone and MDMA; it makes your memories distant and makes you happy all at once." The man's smooth voice was distracting and Harry tried to hear the actual words coming out of the beautiful mouth.

"Great, do I need a prescription?" The man shook his head and smiled at Harry.

"No, you only need a prescription if you're not of age, but I can tell from your magic signature that you are. I'll fill you for a month and then, if you like it, I'll refill you, otherwise we can try something else. Sound okay with you?" Harry nodded and the man headed to the back and began sorting through his shelves.

The man took about ten minutes to find the pills, and once he'd finally retrieved them he hurried back to where he'd left Harry standing.

"Great, that'll be seven galleons, eight sickles and one knut, please." Harry dug into his pocket and, pulling his wallet out, handed the handsome man a wad of cash. In return the man gave Harry back his change as well as the bottle of pills and then quickly added some advice;

"Every time you take it you'll seem a little weird for a couple of hours, so make sure you give yourself time before you do anything important." Harry nodded and, thanking the man both for the pills and the advice, he walked out of the shop.

XXX

**Thanks for reading and please review ****!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters it contains.**

XXX

The rest of the week, in its entirety, was rather insignificant; his time consisted of classes, detention and occlumency. To sum it up, Harry spent what felt like the majority of his time in the presence of Snape, being yelled at and ordered around. The man did a fantastic job of making Harry feel insignificant and rather stupid, constantly speaking down to him.

It was a blur, though, really, because of the pills he'd begun to take for his feelings. He continued to feel weary due to the fact that he was still having trouble sleeping, but other than that his feelings had shifted completely. Or rather, his feelings had been wiped out entirely and instead of his usual self-pity and depression he was simply an empty void feeling nothing other than tired, strained and lost.

Seeing as he spent most of his time with Snape, or alone, he judged his own behaviour from how his professor was treating him. The man seemed to not notice a significant difference in his behaviour; this was possibly because he already expected Harry to behave like a daft zombie. The only notable difference was that he seemed to be angering the man even more than regular, and from this discovery he could only deduct that he was even more himself than regular because the known 'Harry Potter' bothered Snape more than anyone, or anything, else. So as long as he smiled and said something 'Harry-like' every once and a while to his friends, no one seemed to notice the rather drugged state he was in. Of course Hermione still worried about him, but no more than regular, he supposed,

On Saturday and Sunday, during his occlumency lessons Harry made sure not to be under the influence of his drug. He did a terrible job, as usual, and as usual Snape sneered at him and commented on his stupidity and 'how he was exactly like his father'. He did not defend himself, possibly too tired or possibly finally of sound mind enough to not encourage the man by retorting. In the penetration of his mind Harry thought that Snape had seen him taking the pills, but the man did not acknowledge it. _Why should he? It's not like this drug is illegal so I'm certainly not doing anything wrong. _And he decided that it would only be an issue to someone who cared about his well-being, so certainly not Snape.

And as Sunday rolled into Monday and the new week began, Harry thought that maybe he was okay now. Being void was better than what it had been before and though he hated himself for being so weak and full of self-pity, he thought he deserved to feel okay for once. The weeks rolled on without significance until it was mid-October. When Harry was not on his medication, which by now was only when he had occlumency, his mind often questioned why Dumbledore hadn't recruited him for the hunting of the horcrux's.

_Certainly he has had some progress since last year?_

But Harry decided not to question the man about the issue, simply because he wanted to avoid confrontation with the old wizard for as long as he could. A confrontation with Snape, however, seemed unavoidable as the man was currently staring at him in some kind or perplexed manner. Harry sighed as he stared back at the man, not fully able to meet his eyes but trying to stealthily motion himself inside the potions room. Snape however was blocking the doorway in a custom that seemed almost unintentional, but Harry knew better than that.

"Professor, if I could just get in the room-" his squirming suddenly stopped as the taller man grabbed him by the shoulders and practically lifted him into the room.

"Potter, what is the matter with you?" His question, though accompanied with a sneer, held a note of concern Harry was not used to hearing from his professor.

"Um, pardon?"

"You look rather sick; you're pale, clammy, the bags under your eyes are much darker than regular and you're shaking uncontrollably." It was not a question but rather a prod for Harry to explain himself to Snape. He did not think he needed to.

"No offence, sir, but I'm fine enough to do this. That's all you need to concern yourself with, right?" He tried desperately for his voice to not contain the hope he felt but it was rather hard to control his emotions, seeing as he only felt them about ten hours a week.

"Your competence for occlumency, Potter, is at best terrible without there being anything wrong with you. There is clearly something wrong and I can no longer ignore it; since September you have made literally no progress and my patience has run out." As Snape leered at him he noted that the man's voice held an edge of anger and an unspoken threat that made Harry shiver.

'There is nothing _wrong _that you don't already know about, sir." He couldn't help but smile at the convincing nature in which he spoke, but Snape dismissed his words without a second thought.

"What is that medication you're taking?" Before he could answer, though, Snape had delved into his mind and retrieved his answer himself. "You insufferable brat! Why would you be taking such medication?" The snap in the man's voice echoed his actions as he grabbed Harry and dragged him into a seat and glared down at him.

"Without it, all I can think about is my fate! It's driving me mad, professor. The medication helps me forget." He tried his hardest to give Snape a steady gaze but couldn't help but falter as he looked into the deep pools of black.

"It may help you forget, Potter, but it's more harm than it is help. You mustn't use it again, do you understand?" His words were a dangerous order and his expression mirrored them.

"Well I just don't see how I'm supposed to deal with all of this." Harry motioned his arms hopelessly as panic struck.

"How typical, Potter, that you're so full of self-pity." At his professor's words, Harry blanched. There was nothing he could do to deny them so he stayed decidedly silent and did all he could not to look into Snape's eyes, fearing he'd turn to stone.

"Of course I understand how you feel, Potter, but there is nothing to be done. Everyone is going to die; your happiness depends on perspective alone. If you fill the rest of your time with drugged experiences and self-pity, you'll only be proving me right about you." As the older man spoke he pulled up a chair and at down beside Harry.

He took a moment to reflect the words spoken by his professor and then carefully, he responded.

"Fine, you're right. A different perspective would be…. Nice." He sighed and then turned his eyes towards Snape, eyebrows pressed together in thought. "Help me, though. Please?"

"I-…" It was the first time Harry had seen Snape at a loss of words and he couldn't help but give his professor a half smile as he continued, "How do you suppose I do that?"

His smile faded as he thought about it. "Just, er, give me a chance? Let me, well, that is to say, sir… Give me the opportunity to change your mind, about me."

"Potter, I very much doubt you'll be able to do that. And anyway, you don't want to waste your time trying." He spoke grudgingly.

"No, but sir, you're wrong. That is exactly what I want to do. Even if it's the last thing I do get to do, I'm going to conquer you." As his words processed in his own mind, Harry blushed and started sputtering in a sad attempt at rewording himself.

"Oh, are you?" His professors smooth voice cascaded over him, making his blush deepen as the man quirked an eyebrow. For a moment, Harry barely recognized his professor, with the playful smirk on his face. He felt a stir in his stomach that made him shift uncomfortably as he looked up at Snape.

"Er, I worded that wrong. But, please. I think you can help me, sir."'

Snape hesitated, struggling to find the words to suit his confliction. "Fine" Was the best he could come up with as he stood and made his way toward his private rooms.

"Um, sir, where are we going?" He stood and followed his professor before the man had time to answer.

"To my rooms, where we will begin our occlumency. I will make an effort to not hate you as long as you stop taking those pills and stop being so self-pitying. We can… Talk. Before we begin every Saturday and Sunday. But only because it will make it that much faster and easier for you to learn."

By the time he'd finished speaking they were sitting across from each other in what looked like a sitting room. The colors were, of course, green and silver, but Harry didn't mind because the fire light that flooded over the room made him feel warm.

"Deal. So, professor, can you tell me why Dumbledore hasn't called on me to help him with any more horcrux's?"

"I can't say I know too much because the horcrux's are the one thing the Headmaster doesn't expect me to deal with. But as far as I do know, he hasn't called upon you because he's been having trouble finding any.'

"Oh." Was all Harry could muster in response, the one word filled with disappointment.

"Yes."

His deep voice made Harry shiver for reasons he couldn't explain, and he smiled awkwardly up at his professor. He wasn't sure what to say, all he knew was he wanted to change the man's mind about him. _But… _He thought for a moment before coming to an abrupt realization.

_He'll never think anything of me if I work so hard to show him how great I am. _

He sighed as his mind tried to loop a way around, as he tried to think how Snape might like his company.

_Maybe I'll just be myself, and hope he likes me._

So he decided, but he still didn't fully know who _he _was. Or what to say. But just as his professor was mumbling something, he tried his luck as speech, anyhow.

"Fancy a game of chess?"

"Er, no. I don't particularly fancy a game of chess, Mr. Potter." Harry sighed thoughtfully at the usage of the _'Mr.' _So polite. He rather liked it, he decided, but he'd prefer Harry.

"Do you have coffee?"

"It's a bit late for coffee, but I can make tea." The suggestion startled Harry, partially because he'd been joking about the coffee, and partially because he couldn't imagine Snape drinking _tea _of all things.

"Tea would be nice, if coffee's not an option. Though, to be honest, I have rather given up on the idea of sleeping." The thought, actually, nearly made him giggle. It seemed ridiculous he'd ever slept in the first place, but he knew he certainly couldn't do it anymore.

"You know, Mr. Potter, I think I might have something that can help you." As he spoke, he stood and made his way through the doors back into his classroom before returning, minutes later, with a small vial in his hand.

"Dreamless sleep draught." He breathed deeply and looked up to meet the perturbed expression on his professor's face.

"I know it's not uncommon, but with your idiocy of potions in general, I'm surprised you recognize it."The statement, Harry realized, was not only an insult, but also a question. Apparently Snape deserved an explanation he wasn't a complete moron, Harry mused.

"Well it was sort of a guess. But the only reason I knew to guess it was because of last year, and, you know, remember… 'The Half Blood Prince'?" Snape's expression faltered as he returned to his seat and placed the vial gently in his hand.

"Refrain from using that name. You know it was me, don't you?" At his question, Harry nodded, and he continued speaking. "I'm sure something Granger figured out, eventually. Well, then if you think about it, you're calling me a prince. And, as you can be sure I'm flattered by your compliments, It's rather steep." He wasn't sure, but Harry thought for a moment that his professor was, was actually _teasing _him.

He blushed, of course.

"Right, well, thank you for the potion, sir. If you've rejected the idea of chess, and abandoned making me tea, should we begin the occlumency?" He had a very pointed expression as he spoke because, well, as much as he wanted to connect with the older man, he'd need time to collect ideas of what to say.

"No, not today. There is no point in wasting my time when you're so tired and your drugs are still having an effect on you." Harry had never been so surprised at words, but right now it seemed his professor cared. And that thought was enough to let everything else go. Suddenly, Snape got up again and went into his classroom before swiftly returning and placing a second vial in his hand. "This is for the withdrawal. Take it in the morning and you'll be fine, and we'll begin tomorrow when you're well rested."

"Okay." He said it with complete confidence as he stared at his professor. "So, where is your bedroom, then?"

"Really, Potter, you think I'd bring you to my _actual _private quarters, did you? This is just a sitting room; most of the time spent here is waiting for potions that take longer to brew." The explanation seemed obvious now, and Harry blushed as he realized how presumptuous he'd been.

"Right, of course. Suppose we're not there yet?"

"There _yet. _I quite doubt we'll ever be _there, _I'm not even sure you know what _there _is." The man looked utterly offended and suddenly speaking was something Harry was unable to do. Then he saw that his professor seemed to be blushing a little, and he couldn't help but prod on.

"What is it you mean, professor? Thought you were making an effort to get to know me?"

"Yes, I most certainly did agree to that. But, _Harry," _The seductive slur of his name made him shiver, and he shifted his eyes up to meet his professors black ones, "I very rarely invite people into my private rooms. They're private, you see. And unless you want to get shagged, I doubt you'll ever step foot in my private quarters."

"Why?"

"Why what? I thought I just-"

"Not why _that, _professor. Why did you call me Harry, just now?" His eyebrows pressed together as he sought answers in the black eyes, and suddenly he was painfully aware that he had no right to feel the way he did. He was more confused than he ought to be. And he was worried. Worried the man wouldn't ever call him '_Harry' _again. But he didn't know why it mattered, or why he cared.

"I thought we were trying to be more familiar, _Potter." _His name was practically spat at him and he realized he should stop throwing rocks at the glass house before it cracked.

"Oh, okay then. So who do you think will kill Voldemort, once I'm dead?" He wasn't much for casual conversation, and it was even harder to be causal when having a sit down chat with your most hated professor.

_Though, _he thought casually, _I don't necessarily have to hate him anymore. He's saved my life many times. I'm allowed to like him. _He knew it was silly to defend himself to _himself, _but he couldn't help it. He, himself, was a right hating bastard. And he was judging he.

"You'd better keep calling me professor, or sir." The threat was a surprise, for Harry had thought their conversation had moved forward. He nodded, though, and Snape continued. "I've no idea, honestly. Dumbledore, maybe? I'd love to do it. But someone like Dumbledore would make a lot more sense. In the end none of it will make sense, though, so who knows. I can't predict the future."

"You know a lot more about the future than a lot of people." He didn't mean to sound acidy, he really didn't. But he was still a little bitter. Snape didn't seem to mind. He almost smiled, actually.

Almost.

"If we have these conversation's every Saturday and Sunday, maybe I'll finally be able to make you as bitter as I am." There was no sadness in his voice, Harry realized, and he smiled. Of course the only thing his self-hating professor didn't hate about himself was the way he scared people. Children, particularly. Of course.

"It's getting late, Harry. Take the potions. One tonight; one tomorrow. And I'll see you tomorrow night."

He stood, legs still containing a small tremor, probably because of the drugs. He walked out the doors to the sitting room and back into the classroom he knew. His professor followed him, to his surprise.

"Walking me out? How polite of you." He turned as he approached the door and smiled at his professor as the man opened it for him.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Severus." He made sure to pur the man's name before he bolted down the corrider.

He could faintly hear the protests of Snape. He would pay for it tomorrow, he knew.\

But it was _SO _worth it.

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**Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Sorry it took a while. **

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